Grey & Gone
by bamftastik
Summary: *MA/NSFW* In Zevran's absence, Nathaniel helps Tabris deals with her loneliness and distrust of humans. In Antiva, Zevran learns of another attempt on her life and is given the opportunity to send warning.
1. Chapter 1

Bending double, she stretched, fingers curling round her toes. She could feel him watching her from across the practice yard, tried not to let him see her stiffen. Slowly she straightened, rolling her head between her shoulders.

But it was too late. Already Nathaniel had set his bow aside, closing the distance with a crooked smirk. "Barely enough armor for the men and you're outfitting a dummy?"

Reikha sighed, adjusting the breastplate that she had strapped round the straw man. Setting the battered helmet atop the pike, she stepped back to admire the effect. "And I suppose we'll be fighting the darkspawn in their smallclothes, will we?"

He chuckled at that, lifting one of her daggers from the ground. Rolling it between his fingers, he tested the weight, seeming not to notice as she flinched. "Or maybe you just have to have the prettiest target in the yard."

"Different armor types have different weaknesses. Know them and your job becomes that much easier."

With a shrug, he flicked the dagger into the air. She caught it easily.

"I've been told I have some skill with a blade." His eyes narrowed, holding her gaze. "Perhaps you could give me a demonstration?"

So dark those brows, pulling dangerously low. Despite his apparent change of heart, she could still feel the weighing wonder behind that stare. A human was a human and it was not so long go that this one had wanted her dead.

Still she could hear it, an echo of that whispered chuckle. _Ahh, but if you killed all your enemies, you would have no friends left._

Shivering, she turned away. It didn't seem so funny anymore. "Fine. Come here."

Dropping the blade into his palm, she positioned herself behind him, watching his features settle, the grim focus returning. His was certainly a face made for scowling. And yet there was almost a hint of a smile as she moved closer, stretching to slip an arm behind his.

"Bloody big humans."

"My apologies."

Reikha shook her head. "Now, plate may seem the most formidable protection, but there are weaknesses here that mail and leather do not have." She guided the blade, slipping it between the joints of the shoulder.

He nodded. "Simple enough."

"But the better craftsmen will have accounted for this." She withdrew their hands slowly, felt the blade catch on the metal. "Strike once and you could just as quickly be disarmed." Wiggling it free, she angled it along the length of the seam, dragging in a slow and shallow cut. "A slice will be unexpected. The wound may not be deep, but with a strong enough poison it may well be enough.

"Ah. The dwarf had said that you were trained as an assassin."

She could feel her fingers clench, pulled her hand away from his. "With an assassin. An Antivan Crow."

"With the Crows?" He arched a brow. "Most impressive."

"_A_ Crow. Just the one."

Again his eyes narrowed curiously, turning to watch her over his shoulder.

"'Ey! Commander!"

She whirled, startled at the interruption. Certainly not relieved. Oghren tottered atop the steps to the keep, a bemused Anders folding his arms beside him. The dwarf seemed to have appropriated a set of the mage's robes, lifting the oversized folds by the fistful as he made his way down the stairs. As she watched, he stumbled, tumbling end over end to land splayed in the dirt.

Still Nathaniel stood close, his chuckle warm against her hair.

She moved quick to help the dwarf to his feet, but Anders reached him first. "See? Told you."

"Shuddup." Puffing beneath his whiskers, Oghren grinned up at her. "Whatcha think, Commander? Figured the way this nug-humper goes on about 'em, we might all try wearin' skirts. More comfy than I thought, I'll give 'em that." With a snorting chuckle, he lifted the robes higher still.

Reikha smirked, averting her eyes. "Well, that answers that question."

"This is why they don't let dwaves be mages." Anders sighed.

"Anders, get him cleaned up."

"Why me?"

"And Oghren. _Pants_."

He gave a clumsy salute, punctuating it with a resounding belch.

Moving back toward the dummy, Reikha shook her head. The hope of Ferelden. She smiled. Picking up the second dagger, she positioned herself, taking a long breath. There was focus here, a strange sort of peace, but through it all that emptiness, that vague sense of loss. Their numbers were growing and still she was alone.

"Here. Perhaps this will work better. Since I'm so… ungainly."

She gasped as Nathaniel slipped behind her, hand falling over hers to mirror her movements. The dagger slipped from her fingers as she spun.

"Apologies, Commander. I thought we were—"

"—No, I…" She scooped up the blade, blinking to see the other still in his hand.

With a wondering shake of his head he followed her gaze, spinning it round to offer her the hilt. There was a smirk there as she took it, but still his eyes were cold.

"I—"

"—Will continue training with the bow." His bow was shallow, little more than a nod, proud despite the deference. She had seen its like before, felt her teeth clench at the memory.

"…Good." Shaking herself, she nodded. "Good."

Bowed he remained, watching her go from beneath lowered bows.

* * *

"I want to talk about Zevran."

Reikha stiffened, fingers tightening round the quill as her eyes pinched shut. After a long moment she pushed the ledger cross the desk, sinking back in her chair.

Nathaniel moved round, drawing up a second chair. He paused, taking a moment to survey the room with a whispered snort. "I like what you've done with the place."

Slowly she opened her eyes, shaking her head. "I've done nothing."

"Exactly." There was almost a smile there as he sat, resting an elbow on the desk. "But the office is yours now. Amaranthine is yours."

"You think I don't know that?" Snappish, true, but her glare was for the accursed ledger.

"And yet you don't seem to want it."

"Bitter?"

"Yes." He held her gaze for a long moment, those deep-set eyes almost softening. "But I understand it. I could not have imagined it when you recruited me but… the Wardens are doing good here. You are doing good."

"Yeah. Thanks." She dropped the quill in the well, slamming shut the book.

"I mean it." He leaned low, catching her eye before settling back in the chair. So right he looked, born for this office. Treason or no, this place had been made for his kind.

He was watching her still. "You have given me a chance to redeem my family's name. That is no small gift."

"You're welcome."

He nodded, leaning forward with an almost imperceptible smirk. "Now. About your Crow."

"What about him?"

"Well for one, it seems that I'm the last in the keep to know that you are married."

"I'm not."

He quirked a brow at that, fingers straying toward her ear, to the gemmed ring dangling there. They hesitated, curling away as he sat back.

"It's… complicated." Reikha sighed. "How did you find out?"

"Anders."

She had to chuckle for his scowl. "Did you think that maybe I told Anders for a reason? Let him down quick, as it were." Busying herself with the papers, she smiled. "You may want to give him an excuse yourself."

"Very funny."

"And the Commander's personal life is a topic of debate, is it?"

It was his turn to smile, drumming his fingers on the thick-carved arm of the chair. "People will talk. It comes with the position."

"Great."

"Particularly if one is… courting an assassin. It seems our commander has dangerous tastes."

"If that were true, I'd have taken up with a human." The words slipped free before she could stop them.

"Oh?" His brows pulled low. "Interesting."

"Just… in my experience." She dared an upward glance.

"First we are too big and now we are dangerous." He nodded, but she found herself unable to read his expression. "Perhaps I should be grateful that you spared my life at all."

"It was—"

"—Most people would not hesitate to kill a man that had sought their life."

"Maybe I'm not most people."

"So I hear." Something twitched behind his scowl. "And your Antivan Crow. Where is he?"

"Antiva."

"Ah."

"He had… business there."

"More important than our own? Than yours?"

Reikha's head snapped up with a glare. "Speaking of business…"

"It is none of mine." He help up a forestalling hand. "I only thought you might… like to talk. It's no small burden that you carry."

"So what? You'll advise me? Think I can't handle it? Because I wasn't born to it like you? Because I'm just an elf?"

"I did not say that." The whisper was flat, hard. With a shake of his head, he came to his feet, striding for the door. "You are doing well, Commander." He smirked. "Plus, after a few pints I can get all I need out of the dwarf."

"Why do you care?" She spun in her chair, but the door was already closing behind him.

* * *

Slipping into the dining hall, Reikha sank back against the wall. Another night with the maps. Not enough troops to go around, not enough stone for the wall, not enough coin. It was never enough. She had missed the evening meal by hours, but the cooks had learned by now to leave a plate warming for her. Sigrun had visited her some time ago to return a book, had mentioned some sort of contest between Anders and Oghren. It seemed she had missed the fun as well, though by the smell of it it must have been quite the sight.

The hall was empty save for the lone figure sitting at the last of the long tables. Nathaniel glanced up at her approach, turning his mug between his hands.

She hadn't been avoiding him, not really. Their numbers had just grown so much these past few weeks.

"Commander." Again that nod, his eyes returning to the mug before they could see her hesitate.

With a sigh, Reikha sank onto the bench beside him. There were still various cups scattered cross the table. Pulling one close, she took an experimental sip. Bitter, tepid, but at least it was wet.

"Here." Nathaniel took the mug from her, pouring the remaining contents onto the floor before refilling it from the bottle.

She quirked a brow at the mess. "You're drunk."

"Apologies."

Reikha took the cup, wrinkling her nose as she looked to the tiles. Someone had certainly lost the bet, but she turned away before she could venture a guess. "I don't think it matters."

He chuckled.

"Where's everyone else?"

"I left Anders in the bathhouse. Oghren was gone when I returned."

"Are they alright?"

"So it would seem." Nathaniel shrugged. "Though I still say that pissing yourself is cheating."

Reikha found herself scooting along the bench, running a fearful hand beneath her.

"You're safe."

"And you? You're alright?"

"Well enough." He took another long pull.

Reikha pulled her own mug close. It was cooler but still bitter, still tart. But it would do. They sat in silence for a time, the warmth growing welcome in her belly, the hunger forgotten if not truly sated. It would be worse in the long run she knew, but at the moment she did not care.

"Why do you hate humans?"

She blinked, for a moment thinking she had imagined the words. "I… don't."

"I've heard you are close to the king. So you cannot think us all bad."

She couldn't help but chuckle. "He's harmless."

"See? That. 'Harmless.'" He turned, sitting sideways on the bench to look at her. "Meaning you've been harmed."

Her hand twitched unbidden, nearly topping the mug over the table's edge. He caught it with ease.

"I visited an alienage once." The darkness round his eyes seemed to deepen, holding to hers. "I do not envy you."

"Yeah. Thanks." She snatched up the cup, draining it in a single pull.

Nathaniel hesitated before breaking that gaze, pouring her another glass.

"It was my wedding day."

He glanced up in surprise. "You said you were not married."

"This was before. I had a wedding. But I was never married."

"What happened?"

Snorting, she shook her head. "There were rapists. We got the wrong cake. It was a disaster."

He was watching her, silent still.

"Humans. A noble and his friends. They… interrupted. Took us… the women back to his estate." She scowled. "I… they beat me, but that was all. I was one of the lucky ones."

Nathaniel regarded her for a long moment. "And then?"

"I killed them." She raised her eyes. "I killed them all. That's why I had to flee, why I joined the Grey Wardens."

"I see."

"That's it? 'You see?'"

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"Nothing about the pride of the order? About how your grandfather would react to see a murdering elf made Commander?"

"I was going to apologize, actually." There was a roughness behind his whisper. "I'm not exactly one to cast stones when it comes to the Warden's recruitment criteria."

"So pity then? Thanks a lot."

He had slipped close, she realized, his hand falling over hers. "Who was he? This man?"

"Right. You all seem to know each other, don't you?" She pulled her hand away. "Bann Urien. Vaughan Urien, the Arl of Denerim's son."

His eyes barely flickered.

"You _did_ know him."

"Yes. I did. But it was long ago."

Taking a measured sip, Reikha watched him over the rim of her mug. "Did you… like him?"

"Would you hate me if I said that I did? But we were little more than boys."

"You killed a man who had wronged you." He took a careful pull of his own. "I may not like it, but I have come to understand its necessity. I trust your judgment."

"That's… strange."

"So I thought. But I have seen it proven true."

Again her mug was empty. Blinking down at it, she felt herself sway. Too much, too fast. She should know better. The taste turned her stomach but it was warm instead of cold, something to dull the ache, the emptiness. "Maybe you shouldn't."

That scowl twitched, twisting into something of a smirk. "Perhaps. Your opinion of humans, for one. We are not all so bad."

"That so?" She felt the bile rising in her throat, swelling behind a laugh.

He caught her as she stumbled, her hand curling round his shoulder as she fell against his chest.

"Commander…"

Grip tightening, she pushed herself up to meet his eyes. "Prove me wrong."

* * *

Falling back against the bed she gasped, fingers tangling in his tunic to draw him down. Again her lips found the roughness of his chin, the angles too bluff, too broad, the new-grown hair scraping against her cheek.

His knee braced beside her hip, looming over her now, moving with her as she slid back across the blankets. It raced along her spine, that panicked energy. So large he was and she pinned beneath him, unable to read the narrowed focus of those eyes. It was a look she recognized, but still she could not turn away. Her shoulders butted against the headboard now. Well and truly trapped.

Nathaniel hesitated, sitting back on his heels.

"No." She rose to meet him, eyes pinching shut as she again found that too-wide mouth, his tongue probing thick and rough and insistent.

Her hands roamed low, drawing the tunic up and over his head, his chuckle muffled as he shifted to help. She held him there, palm pressed against his chest as he leaned away. He smirked, following her eyes.

So broad he was, the sinew thicker than she had expected. Human. And there was hair there, dark and curling and spreading cross his chest. It was soft, so stark against his pale skin, the contrast severe, accusing.

He seemed about to speak, but her fingers twisted in that hair, drawing a sharp gasp. Yet this time he fell low, chin resting between her breasts, gaze darkening as he trailed kisses toward her belly. His breath was warm, sensations stirring near-forgotten.

When his hands curled round her belt, she shivered, raising her hips to help him slip the breeches free. Her eyes fell closed, fingers stroking his hair, so long now but soft as she remembered. Sighing deep, Reikha smiled.

_Ahh… il gusto di voi… tale dolcezza…_

But those kisses were shifting, changing. Too rough, too strange. He wasn't here, couldn't be here. Not for this.

She opened her eyes, found only Nathaniel looking up at her, watching still. So large, so pale, so human. Human. Twisting her fingers in his hair, she drew him upward.

He blinked. "We can stop if—"

Again she tugged, again she brought a hiss of pain. "No. Just don't do… that."

"Commander?"

Reikha pressed close, teeth nipping at his ear. "Don't be nice."

* * *

She had waited until she heard his breaths deepen, the first whispered snores rumbling against her back. Removing his arm from her waist she swung her legs off of the bed, grimacing for the pain. Maker's breath…

They had not bothered with the lamps, but it was his chamber, or so she guessed. She had half expected to feel the ale still, the nausea, the first echoes of pain behind her eyes. But there was nothing. Nothing. She did not sway as she bent to retrieve her breeches, found her steps steady as she slipped through the door. So much for excuses.

"Commander."

The light of the hall was dim, but there was no mistaking that voice, his boots surprisingly soft as he stepped from the shadows.

Reikha found herself pressing back against the door, as if she could hide the room behind her. "Oghren."

"That Howe's room?"

She sighed.

"I know I ain't one to talk, Commander..." His eyes narrowed, features settling into a sternness she had not seen before.

"That's right. You're not. So don't."

"It ain't right."

"And why not?" She straightened, glaring down at him.

"You're smarter'n that, girl. You know why."

"You don't even _like_ Zevran."

"Heh. He's alright. For an elf."

"But you don't think he's doing the _same thing_?" She could hear her voice rising. "It's Antiva. You know, _Antiva_. You've heard the stories; you know what he did there."

"Yeh? And he went back for you. To set things right."

Now, now the sickness threatened. "Months. _Months_ and not even a letter! Not a single blighted word!"

"So?"

"So? So he's…" She staggered, bracing a hand against the wall as she buried her face in her palm. "What if… what if he doesn't come back?" It stung behind her eyes, the realization finally given voice. She had half expected Oghren to lay a hand on her back, offer some sort of comfort, but when she raised her eyes the dwarf had not moved.

"He'd burn that soddin' city to the ground to get back to you. If ya don't know that…" He turned with a shake of his head, making his way back down the hall.

"This from you? From _you_?"

Oghren glanced over his shoulder, snorting beneath his breath. "Heh. I'm a no good sword who couldn't even keep his wife on the pikes, who took a death pact to get away from the second one. Never said I was anythin' more."

She watched him go, sagging back against the wall. Sliding to the floor, Reikha buried her head against her knees.


	2. Chapter 2

…_It was a simple enough matter. Both Loghain and his executor, Arl Howe, are dead. It is not uncommon for the Crows to accept opposing contracts and in such cases we refer to the Rule of Primacy. Ensure that the other is the first to perish and the mark upon your head becomes void. We keep both fees, of course, but such an arrangement is considered only courteous. A fighting chance, as it were._

_So by your duel with Loghain and your dispatching of the fiendish Arl, the contract has already been dissolved. I have made inquiry and, despite the slow spread of news from the south, I have done what I can to speed word of their deaths._

_Would that I could return to you now, but my own unfortunate situation is not so easily resolved. Toccaro is but another step. I fear I know where I must now turn, but I know I need not write it here. You struck true when last we spoke of him, when you saw the tale behind my words. If only you were here to still my tongue again, in all your wicked ways._

_But such things are all the sweeter for the waiting, or so they say. I myself have never been one to test the fact. I look forward to letting you surprise me._

_Until that day I shall return to my near certain death, the unending dance, danger awaiting me at every turn. How you must seethe with envy! But I can only assume that those nobles are bowing already, yes? You will surprise them too, I think._

_Sono tuo,  
Z._

Laying the quill aside, he sat back in the chair. The room was dim and windowless, the small hearth by which he wrote the only light, the spindly table and chair the only furniture beyond the narrow cot. As he reclined to watch the ink dry, Zevran smiled. She would be well settled in her keep now, a fine and sprawling fortress of her very own. Unfortunate as his situation was, he had no doubt that Reikha would give anything to be at his side, that here she would feel more at home. He felt the same, though perhaps for more than his want of fine sheets.

Fingers trailing carefully along the edges of the page, he turned it to the light. He had chronicled his latest encounter, Toccaro the third master to fall beneath his blades. There were details here that only she would appreciate, the dance recounted stroke by stroke, the certainty of the crowning blow, the decidedly impolite epithet hurled in the man's final gasps. Zevran could picture her face as she read the words, that knowing smirk, the gentle shake of her head. Even amongst the Crows he had never found another who so appreciated the… artistry of it. Then again, Reikha had always found ways to surprise him.

But she would never read these words.

Rising from the chair he sighed, scanning the letter one last time as he let his eyes fall closed. So many there had been, each one very nearly sent. But it was too soon, too dangerous for both of them.

Bending low, he lay the page on the hearth, sinking back onto the cot to watch the edges curl. A strange ritual this, but already he could feel his shoulders stiffening, his scowl hardening and becoming fixed. Such moments of indulgence he could ill afford, but without them… Zevran shook his head. He was himself again, an assassin true, the hardness as essential as his leathers, as either of his blades.

Reaching beneath the pillow, he let his fingers curl round the hidden hilt. Another token, another distraction, but Fang was a sturdy weapon and it had seemed somehow… fitting to do the deed with Reikha's own blade. Ahh, life's little ironies. She ruled now the lands of a man that she had killed, while he carried his mark's dagger home to slay his master.

Why again did he think of Howe? He had met the man only briefly, his first and only visit with Loghain. When next he had seen him he had lay at her feet, cursing in his own filth. Perhaps it was only the deliciousness of imagining her laughing in his halls, or perhaps Reikha's rather… colorful opinion of Ferelden nobles had soured him already. Zevran chuckled.

The knock at the door jerked his head up, eyes narrowing. Again his gaze strayed to the hearth, the words blurring as the page glared. Soon enough it would crumble.

He came slow to his feet, slipping Fang behind his belt. Of course there would be eyes even here, but he had been careful as he could, choosing this squalid little inn, his movements always cloaked and hooded. But he _had_ been followed; she hadn't tried to hide it. In fact, he had expected her sooner. Moving to the door, he slid aside the bolts.

Despite the shadows, the figure was familiar, the sneering grin unmistakable. "Zevran."

"Selena."

"So good to see you again."

He snorted, but she only pursed her lips, one hand straying to pat at her careful pile of golden curls. She was not dressed for a fight, the bodice snug and plunging above her skirts, but that had never been Selena's way.

Following his eyes, she smirked. "You are not going to invite me in?"

Zevran leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms as he chuckled. "Ahh, Selena…"

She squared her shoulders, the sigh exaggerated… accentuating. "I will not harm you. Quite the contrary." That smile was hungry, dangerous. "I have something you want."

"Oh?"

She leaned close, the whisper hot against his ear. "Information. About your Warden. But if you like we could make other… arrangements."

He stiffened, saw her eyes flash triumphant as he moved away. Stepping back into the room, he gestured her sharply across the threshold.

There was such grace there as she lifted her skirts and slipped past, turning to spread her hands. "I may be armed."

"That, I do not doubt."

"But I am willing to submit to a search."

Throwing back his head, Zevran laughed. "My memory is not so poor as you think, Selena. Your weapons cannot be hidden in belt or boot. And all the more dangerous for the fact."

She grinned. Poisons, manipulation, these were her strengths. But her head tilted now, watching. Once he would have slipped close, played along with her game. As he took a hasty step forward, she tsked, holding up a hand. "It is true. You _have_ changed."

Sliding Fang from his belt, he lay it on the table, let the sound echo in the stillness. "Not so much as you might think."

"You always were a poor liar. And to think I found it rather amusing. But I know you have been making inquiries, asking about one of your old contracts."

Silent he remained, his back to her as he watched the flames.

"The Grey Warden. An elf, they say, and quite pretty. There is rumor that she spared your life, that you traveled at her side."

Zevran snorted. "I was… fortunate. I cannot say the same for those who sought her death."

"Yes, yes the contract is void, this is true." She moved closer now, slipping round to face him. "It is the new contract, I think, which would concern you."

He blinked at that; he couldn't help it.

Selena laughed. "Oh, yes. Out of Amaranthine. She rules there now, does she not? And it seems she has enemies already."

"Such is always the case. You tell me nothing I do not already know."

"More lies? Tsk. But the contract comes from one close to her, one perhaps trusted. I would be willing to provide the name."

Zevran stepped back. "Why?"

"Merely to see what you would do with the information. Would you run to her side, I wonder, abandon what you do here?"

Truly, it had been his first thought. Strange, that. But there would be some fact behind Selena's words, twisted as it may be. Lies may wound but truth would always kill, as she had been so fond of saying. Of the contract's existence, he had no doubt.

"…No." He was so close. Save her he might, but he would only bring the Crows down upon them in the end. It would not end so long as Visarius remained.

"No?"

Chuckling, he shook his head. "You do not know her. I have seen her best men and monsters, the archdemon itself. What are a few Crows?"

"Very little, judging by your success. But perhaps there is another solution." Her eyes strayed to the fire, the page now little more than ash. But still the stack of parchment waited on the tale, the quill resting in its well. "I would be willing to provide the name, help you get a letter out of the city."

"Why? I cannot believe that—"

She was there then, much too close, lips pursing as her eyes roamed openly. "—Would you believe for old time's sake?"

He chuckled as she pressed closer still.

"You have killed three masters, Zevran. You plan to take Visarius next. I know when power begins to shift."

"Ahh, but you are Visarius' favorite, are you not?"

She scowled, the wrinkles round her eyes suddenly more pronounced. Selena was by no means aged, but already her beauty had begun to fade, the careful powders thick and flaking on her cheeks. "Visarius is a… cruel man."

"You have fallen out of favor."

Her eyes snapped to his, narrow, deadly.

Zevran had to laugh. "It is true then, what they say about a woman scorned. But I cannot believe that this is merely a matter of vengeance. You were always more practical than that. What is it you want?"

Something of that smile returned. "They say that you will take his place."

He snorted. "Now I know you are mistaken."

"Three Masters, Zevran. _Three_. Already they fear you. There are watchers everywhere. But once Visarius is gone…"

"And you would benefit from this, yes?"

"I would be your second. And if you do return to your Warden, you will raise me in your place."

"Ahh. All of this for a name?"

"A name and a letter. And I will do all that I can to assist you with Visarius. But let us start simply." She pressed her chest to his, sighing as his eyes strayed. Her hands roamed low. "I would have… assurances."

Still she was testing, weighing behind her eyes. He steeled himself visibly but did not step away.

"Come, Zevran. The price is small. And one that you have never shied from paying."

It was slow that he raised his eyes, let her see the danger there.

"The letter will reach your Warden in time, you have my word. You can save her now."

"Why would I believe you?" His voice was husky, his body's will not his own.

"Because you want to." Leaning close, she pressed her lips against his neck, tracing light and lingering toward his ear. One hand jerked hard at his belt, the other slipping now beneath his breeches.

Zevran let his eyes fall closed.

"Because you need to believe, believe that you can help her, that you matter, that you can somehow touch her still."

He winced, breath catching in his throat. Truth. Selena had been right after all.

She chuckled, slipping him free. "And that is all that matters, is it not?"

His hands wrapped round her arms, dimpling the tender flesh. Opening his eyes, he bit the words. "First the name."

Selena smiled.

* * *

He rose quick, tugging on his breeches as he sank into the chair. Still she watched him, stretching long across the tiny bed.

"Perhaps there is something to be said for such squalor. It has its… charms." She chuckled.

"Get dressed."

Dropping the quill, Zevran felt his teeth clench. So many letters burned and now that he at last had the chance the words would not come. He could hear Selena moving behind him now, slow and deliberate, every rustle of her skirts stirring a fresh pain behind his eyes.

After a long moment he pulled the parchment close, cutting cross the page in quick and jagged lines. He told himself that she would recognize the hand, the urgency behind the strokes. Resting elbows on the table, he watched the ink dry, blinking expressionless as he folded the page.

Selena opened it, chuckling beneath her breath. "'Bann Esmerelle.'" Her eyes roamed over him, weighing still, seeing too much. "How touching."

"Go."

With a final laugh she shook her head, disappearing through the door.

* * *

The figure paused in the street beyond the inn, tugging her hood low against the breeze. Removing something from her belt, she turned it in her hands, the delicately folded page so small and yet so heavy. Laughing still she let it fall, fluttering into the canal.


	3. Chapter 3

Taking the steps two at a time, Reikha climbed up and onto the wall. The others seemed to appear beside her, Oghren, Sigrun, Justice. Below them the horde was scattering, the retreat unmistakable now. Bending to rest her hands against her knees she felt her chest heave, felt herself smile.

"By the Maker! We did it! We actually did it!"

Turning to Anders, she arched a brow.

"Not that I wasn't – erm – supremely confident, of course." The mage chuckled.

But they _had_ done it, they truly had. Laughing now she turned to Velanna, pulling the other elf into a surprised hug. Oghren let out a guffaw, slapping her on the back. She even let Anders lift her, twirling her round on the battlements.

There were tears behind her eyes as he set her down, the first that she had allowed herself in months. But she found herself facing another now, his face still and silent as he blinked down at her.

It was awkward, that moment, the ready embraces suddenly seeming foolish. Nathaniel, too, seemed to hesitate, lips twitching as he offered her only the barest of nods. "Well done, Commander."

She could feel the others watching, the color rising in her cheeks.

But Oghren was beside her still, tugging at her arm as he made his way back toward the stairs. "Now _this_ calls for a drink, eh Commander?"

Watching her go, Nathaniel smiled.

* * *

Her face swam before him, flushing awkwardly as she turned away. Of course she would not look at him, not now, not like this. But it was her fault. It had been she who laid him low, she who made him do these things. All of it for her.

Zevran chuckled, shoulders pressing back against the pillows as his hand closed hard round that now familiar length of thigh. The gasp echoed above, his sudden thrust misinterpreted, Selena's laughter coming thick.

He opened his eyes, gritting his teeth in concentration. No, not Reikha's fault. Selena's information had been useful, yes, but not essential. And he had known this, had he not? She rose and fell above him now, sighing pained as his hand snaked upward, fingers closing hard round her breast. No, it was not Reikha who had done this to him.

Again he let his eyes fall closed. He saw her now, a vision of no battle he remembered, the field strange and unfamiliar. But he saw her whirl, smiling for the sing of her blades, the laughter almost drowned beneath the screams and clash of steel. He would have been beside her, always beside her.

More heated it became, her strokes wild, her grin wicked as darkness threatened on the edge of sight. A cavern now, perhaps a cave. There Reikha paused, the shadow, looming, rising, swelling before her. Death he had seen, death they had faced together, but he knew now that this was no mere fantasy. And he had left her there alone. He could feel his hands clench, the hiss of pain above him only half-heard, drowned beneath the cry welling in his throat. Reikha echoed it, charging toward the beast.

Zevran's eyes flew open as the moment swelled, the force of it racking his body, hips rising as his legs buckled. Horror then, horror for the certainty of it, for Selena's chuckle as she collapsed against him.

Rolling her aside, he sat up, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"That was—"

"—Is there any word?"

She flopped onto her back with a sigh. "On?"

He shot her a glare over his shoulder.

"They were unsuccessful, the Bann revealed. Your Warden is as impressive as you say, it seems."

Turning away, he steeled himself, did not give her the satisfaction of seeing his relief. A waking dream then, nothing more. He had saved her. Why then did he still feel so… unsettled? Zevran snorted.

"Ah. I almost forgot."

He stood and moved to the table as she slipped cross the bed, leaning over the side to rummage in her discarded skirts.

There had been no sign of Visarius for weeks. Selena had assured him that he remained closeted in the guild hall, that she would keep him abreast of his movements. No sign and now this. Zevran ran his fingers along the fine silks folded on the table, the delicate fox-head mask. More gifts of Selena's, the gilded invitation resting beside the costume promising something more than opportunity. Weeks of hiding and now the master threw a masquerade. A trap, and an obvious one.

Selena moved behind him now, eyes roaming openly. Pressing against his back, she trailed a hand round and cross his chest, following the pattern of the tattoos. Her other hand held a key, small and glinting golden.

"To Visarius' chambers. In case he is not amongst the guests."

Zevran's hands closed round hers, her sigh stirring against his hair.

"And my payment?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Ahh Selena, you and your ridiculous appetites."

Her hand roamed lower, ticking cross his abdomen. When he did not stir, she tsked, slipping round to face him.

He plucked the key almost forcibly from her fingers. "We are through."

"Are we?"

Again he could feel the warmth of her, her hips rolling hard against his own. One hand snaked behind his back, her nails biting hard as he hissed.

Selena traced her lips along his ear. "Righteousness does not suit you, Zevran." Those nails dragged long, old scars reopened.

Twisting, he caught her wrist, but she was grinning still, her knee slipping to rub between his legs.

"Too long in the company of heroes, perhaps. But I know what you are." Leaning back, she blinked up at him. "You did not save her, you know."

Zevran scowled, grip tightening painfully.

She winced but did not pull away. "You _do_ know, don't you?"

"The letter." There was something rough behind the words, his very voice unwilling.

The smile was sickening sweet. "What letter?"

"You did not—"

"—Of course not. But this, I think, you knew."

Grabbing the other wrist, he pulled her roughly against his chest. One hand slipped low, dimpling the tender flesh of her thigh to pull her closer still.

Hooking it round his back, she laughed. "I always was the better liar."

But he had believed her, had wanted to, had allowed himself. Ah, the self-deluding fool. Zevran smiled. "You were at that."

"And now that you know? Truly know that she does not need you?"

His hands pressed against the small of her back, lifting her, chuckling as she gasped. "Ahh, Selena…"

Bracing now against the table, he entered her, one hand moving to tangle in her hair as the other groped beneath the waiting costume.

"Zevran." Again that wicked smirk, that knowing smile.

His lips were only a hairsbreadth from hers, her teeth nipping eager as he sighed. "Dear, dear Selena… I am afraid you are mistaken."

She only shook her head, smug and certain still.

"It is _I_ who does not need you."

Fang's hilt bit into his palm as he slipped it free. She saw so much, his Selena, but those eyes went wide as the blade thrust home, lips shuddering beneath his as he buried it in her belly.

Not a clean death, not for her. Again and again he thrust, her face paling beneath those careful powders as he mouth grew slack. Still his chest heaved as he pulled free, watching her slide to the floor to crumple at his feet.

No. It would not be clean for any of them.

* * *

They had defended the keep and more, so much more. Strange as their encounter with the Mother had been, it felt almost… good to be back within these walls. Familiar, safe perhaps, but never home. Folding the tunic, Reikha set it carefully atop the others.

"Commander."

She had heard him slip into the room, watched from the corner of her eye as he leaned against the doorframe. Nodding once, she kept her back to him, busying herself with her packs.

"They haven't even finished scrubbing the blood from the gates and already you're packing?"

"It's over."

"Is it?" Nathaniel moved deeper into the room now, coming to stand behind her. "And what of the Wardens?"

With a sigh, she let the shirt fall. "I… don't think it's… _this_ is for me. I know I don't have a choice, not about what I am, but I think maybe I can still choose what to do with it."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing." His hands closed round her arms, squeezing just above the elbow, gentle but insistent.

"Don't." She pulled away, putting the bed between them. "Don't _do_ that."

"As you command." There was an edge behind the words.

"Don't."

"Or should I say _when_ you command." He moved round the bed, expression hardening.

It was either scramble cross the blankets or stand her ground. Somehow Reikha found herself thinking of the encounter with the Mother, the archdemon, countless other sights that should have made her tremble. She chuckled.

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed at that. Another step brought him closer, pressing her back against the bed as he leaned close. But at the last moment he turned aside, reaching to rifle through the piled clothes. He shook his head, that scowl as unreadable as ever. He wouldn't ask; she knew he wouldn't ask.

Reikha sighed. "I have to go."

"Why?" Still he kept his gaze on the bed, revealing nothing.

"I… This whole Grey Warden thing. You know what it means, don't you? I'm dying. _You're_ dying."

He smirked. "Finally, some common ground."

"I'm serious." Cupping his cheek, she brought his eyes back to hers. Too late she realized, pulling her hand away. "We have less than thirty years. But it doesn't have to be spent like this, in servitude."

"Is that what it means to be a Warden, then? An endless preoccupation with your own death? How tiring that must be." She opened her mouth to speak but he chuckled, holding up a forestalling hand. Standing this close, it almost came to lay against her shoulder. "But I have said that I agree with you. I was planning to leave myself."

"Why?"

"These halls feel… different now. There will always be specters here for me, I think. Some of them I know, but more I fear those that I have never met."

She stumbled, sinking back against the bed as he leaned over her. "Don't."

He straightened, moving away. She hadn't felt the warmth of him until it was gone. "If you go, I will not stay."

"What?" Reikha was on her feet, the distance closed again. "This is your _home_. What did you think this was? What did you think would happen? That we would leave together, ride off into—"

Nathaniel grabbed her wrist; she hadn't even realized that she had tried to strike him. But something glinted behind those eyes, familiar and not, tender and hated, setting her knees to buckling. She had seen that look before, but on a different face.

"I'm going. To Antiva. To find him." The words tumbled out in a rush.

"Why?"

"_Why?_"

"Why. Nearly a year now and still no word. Not a letter, not a word of warning when they came for you."

"—He couldn't have…"

Nathaniel jerked her closer, pulling her almost roughly against his chest. But his eyes were soft, the words whispered. "How do you know he is even still there? Still alive?"

"I… I need to know. I _will_ find him."

He watched her for a long moment. "And if you don't like what you find?"

Chewing at her lip, she shook her head.

"It is easier to run away when you think you're running toward something. Trust me."

"I'm not… What does that even _mean_?"

He chuckled, tilting his head to look down at her. How she hated that face, wide and rough and human, those shadowed and unreadable eyes, the perpetually sour twist of those lips. But they brushed close now, slow and testing. Reikha felt herself rise to meet them, sagging against that hand as it fell against her cheek.

After a long moment, she pulled away. "So that's it, then? You wanted a proper goodbye?"

His gaze was heavy, the answer little more than a sigh. For all his apparent concern, his valor, he was still only human.

Snorting beneath her breath, Reikha turned her back to him, working quick at her laces, letting her leathers slide to the floor. She could feel his eyes on her as she leaned low across the bed. Always it had been at her command, her direction, but she knew enough now to know which bits he most enjoyed.

She felt him move behind her, heard the buckle of his belt slide free. Bracing palms against the bed, she rocked back against him, felt the first hesitant brush of fingers along her spine. Straying to her hips, they quivered gentle, grip tightening suddenly to flip her round to face him.

Reikha hid her startlement, forcing herself to hold those eyes as he leaned over her. Fine. If that was how he wanted it. Scooting back across the blankets, she drew him with her.

Low he stretched now, pressing her down, but he did not move, barely blinked. Again those fingers hesitated, brushing aside her hair, tracing light along her cheek.

"What are you doing?"

He shook his head with a bemused smile.

Reikha found herself looking away. "What?"

His lips found hers, light, soft, undemanding.

Sliding back, she grabbed his hand, forcing it to her throat. She shifted beneath him, inviting.

But he moved his hand away, brining it again to her face, that gaze heavy still.

"What? What are you—?"

"—Commander." Wide eyes held to hers, his breath tickling hot cross her lips. "Shut up."

The kiss was staggering, seeming to draw her up and into him. She hadn't exactly forbidden it, not after the first night. But it wasn't supposed to be this way, not here, not with him.

Drawing back her hand, Reikha slapped him hard as she could.

It was slow that she opened her eyes, saw him hiss as he turned his face back to hers. He watched her for only a moment, the kiss rougher now, insistent, but still too… still not…

Her fingers curled against his chest, clawing through that strangely soft hair, the trickle of blood welling warm as he again gasped in pain. He collapsed against her shoulder, the laughter quaking through him to tickle cross her neck.

But still he pushed himself up, propped on an elbow to look at her, that gaze violating what all that they had done could not. It wasn't fair… wasn't… couldn't…

He took her hand in his now, for the feel of it or for his own safety, she could not be sure. Tracing gentle fingers cross her knuckles, his smile grew crooked. "You always get what you want, don't you?"

"It's about time, isn't it? I'm not like you; I've never had…"

A kiss upon the cheek then, silencing her. No, it wasn't fair at all. Something stung behind her eyes, her head rolling toward him, into the kiss.

She could feel him sigh as he moved against her, shifting slow, her legs parting as he broke her down at last. So warm that breath, the taste of him, that spreading ache familiar now. And yet she couldn't summon it, that tension, that fear, all of the walls that she had raised, had needed to raise.

Again he chuckled for her, lips trailing toward her ear. "Commander..." He spun quick, falling away beneath her, her gasp coming thick as she rose above him. It was slow that she fell, feeling him true, shuddering as she rose and fell again. Nathaniel's hands slid from her hips up and cross her back, drawing her down to lay against his chest, moving beneath her still. His sigh was warm against her hair. "Reikha."

It was long before she collapsed beside him, fishing awkwardly for the discarded blankets, tugging them up across her chest. Nathaniel propped himself on an elbow as his fingers trailed the edge of the coverlet, drawing it up to her chin with a smirk. Her bags had been knocked aside and scattered; she would need to repack, do so much more before making for the ship.

Her mind whirled, but as she moved to rise he again cupped her cheek, stilling her. Sweeping aside her hair, he rolled the earring between his fingers. "Your Antivan is a lucky man."

She came quick to her feet, wrapping the blanket tight round herself. It left him exposed, her eyes momentarily straying.

"Apologies." He sat, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I did not mean to offend."

Maybe she shouldn't have worn it, she _knew_ she shouldn't have, should have tucked the earring somewhere safe. But despite the guilt, the shame, it had felt… good to carry him still.

"They need you, you know. The Wardens."

"They need _you_, actually." She shook her head. "That's why you can't leave."

His eyes narrowed dangerously, watching her as she busied herself with recovering the packs, with awkwardly holding the blanket. "I'm leaving you in charge. Of the Wardens, the arling."

It was slow that she forced herself to turn, to face that silence, that surprise, that hurt.

"What was it you said about mistaking guilt for kindness?"

"It's not guilt, not really. And not because—"

He was on his feet now, caring nothing for his nakedness. "—Because you killed my father? No, of course not. And not because of the way you—"

"—Don't."

"I want to hear you say it."

"You're _qualified_. And you want it, you've always wanted it." Wrapping the blanket tighter round herself, she blinked up at him, holding her ground. "It's everything you've ever wanted."

He scowled. "And if I refuse? I told you I was planning to leave."

"It's too late. The documents are already on their way to Denerim." She chuckled. "Along with a letter asking Alistair not to kill you."

The humor did not seem to reach him. "And you?"

"I told you. I'm leaving."

"While I must stay."

"You _want_ to stay. It's over. You're redeemed."

Nathaniel shook his head. "I was right, it seems. It is not my father's specter that has haunted these halls." With that he moved away, tugging on his breeches and slipping through the door.

* * *

Zevran slipped through the crowd, one more shadow amidst the noise, the laughter. Leliana had spoken of it once, the ability to be seen but unseen, glimpsed but immediately forgotten. In such a costume he was sure to be noticed, the appraising glances hot and hungry. But there was much on display here, finery and color and song, bared flesh wherever one might chance to look. Yes he would be seen, desired, but here he was no different from the rest.

There were no pockets in the breeches or the flaring shortcoat, few enough places to hide a blade. The mask was stylized to cover his only half his face, leaving him recognizable to any who might risk a closer glance. Selena had chosen well, betrayed him to the end.

It was simple enough to find Visarius, to pick out the other Crows amongst the guests. Guard there were, stationed round the exits to the hall, but they were merely for show, nothing more. All in Antiva knew where the true power lay. He noticed the crowd shifting with him as he moved, parting, giving him a wide berth. Here they knew, even if they did not recognize him, here the understood the purpose behind his steps. No one moved through a crowd like a Crow. Zevran chuckled.

The old master had spotted him now, raising his eyes with a thin-lipped smirk. But he did not raise alarm, did not draw attention, waving away those with whom he had been speaking with a firm but gentle hand.

Visarius turned, displaying his back deliberately, moving to lean against a nearby column. "Ahh, Zevran." He shook his head, smiling down at him as he tsked.

"Master." The bow was curt, little more than a nod.

Gnarled fingers trailed along his cheek, still steady, still deadly. How he had tried to forget that touch. "A fox, is it? Selena always did have a sense of humor."

"Forgive me if I do not see the joke."

"Oh no? When trapped they say such a beast is willing to do anything to escape. Anything."

"That I am. But you sent her to me, did you not?"

"Of course."

"And you know that she wanted you dead, yes?"

"Why do you think it was she who I sent?" He chuckled. "But come, do you not have a task to perform?"

Zevran could feel the eyes on them as he smirked. "You know me better than this, I think. There is no escape from this room."

"No, there is not. But they will not harm you."

He blinked.

"Do what it is you came to do." Visarius spread his arms wide.

"And then I may just… go?"

That sneer turned wicked. "To your Ferelden? What is left for you there, I wonder."

Zevran scowled.

"Ahh, so you have not heard. Amaranthine, was it not? The city burned not a week ago, the Grey Warden fortress overrun by darkspawn."

His fingers had strayed to Fang, closing round the hilt as he staggered. The dream again, the certainty behind that vision. He had pushed it aside, forced it aside when he heard that the Crows had failed. But it had been no mere assassin, no simple shadowed blade. He had seen the battle, the darkness, complete and consuming.

Visarius was watching with open triumph. "As for their commander…"

His eyes snapped up.

"Ahh, well."

Zevran was on him then, shoving him back against the pillar, Fang pressing hard against his ribs. If the others were moving to stop him he did not hear them, did not care. "You lie."

His head tilted curious. "And yet you believe me."

He pressed closer, heard the old man gasp.

"I am the last, Zevran. My time is done. And you have killed the others. No master now remains within the walls of Antiva City."

He could not listen; it did not matter now. It took all his effort to steady the blade.

"They will need a leader. And that will be you."

His grip tightened at that, the blade pulling away. In this, at least, he had a choice. "No."

"You returned to do what you must. Now you have nothing else."

"Keep your life, my friend. I do not want it." Still Zevran leaned close, pressing him back. "You will not see me again."

Visarius smiled. "For all your vaunted instincts, why do you doubt them now?" His hand closed round Zevran's, lingering a moment before thrusting the blade up and between his own ribs.

There was a smile there as Visarius sank, Fang clattering to the tiles between them. "What now, little fox?"

They were watching, he realized, had been watching all along. From the moment he had entered the room… they had known. Slowly he turned, Crows and whores and nobles all looking now to him. Visarius had named him in advance.

The bows rippled one by one, skirts spread here, a deep nod there. One of the serving girls was even brave enough to move forward, offering him a glass of wine. Still it trembled behind his knees, the cold spreading up and through his shoulders. There was doubt now behind those watching eyes, understanding. They had seen his weakness, had seen him fail.

Zevran's hands were steady as he took the cup, drinking long and deep. No taste of poison, not even the merest hint. He would not be so lucky. It was the girl who watched him now, slight and pale and elven, the only one that would meet his eyes. As she turned to go, his hand closed round her wrist.

The trap was sprung. Visarius had spoken true. Choking back a sigh, Zevran laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

Lifting her skirts, Mira made her way through the market. Strange that she was almost growing accustomed to these trips, the smell of brine and mold amongst the waterside stalls, the rough and varied tongues of the hawkers. She had spent her childhood in a place very much like this, but she did not think she had been this close to the docks since being sold to the Crows.

Master Visarius had sent her on errands, of course – seeking fine silks, fine food, fine wine – but Master Arainai's tastes were decidedly more… unique. First had come the ales, thick and stinking, made from grain instead of proper fruit. Ferelden's finest, he had called them, chuckling as he offered her a sip, watched her lips twist for the bitterness. More she had brought him and it seemed that he could name them all, a self-proclaimed connoisseur of swill. And each had come with a story.

She could remember the first night, the tightness of his fingers round her wrist, the dangerous flash of his eyes. Away he had led her, leaving behind the crowds of the hall, those watching, knowing smirks. She had almost thought it pain that she saw there as Visarius fell, grief and guilt and fear. He had a woman, they said, had grown soft in his time abroad. But as he had dragged her from that place she had recognized the hunger behind that sneer.

Master Arainai had found the chamber with ease, producing a small, golden key as he pulled her inside and rammed home the bolts. Mira had trembled beneath those eyes, her quaking hands moving to loose the knot at the neck of her dress as he glared toward the bed.

But the expression had softened as he turned, that now familiar chuckle soft as he shook his head. "No, _piccolina_." Close he had stepped, that touch gentle as he slid the silks back up and over her shoulders.

Mira blinked, stunned, causing him to laugh all the more.

"You are quite beautiful, do not fear." Moving to the wall, he drew a chair close beside the bed. "Perhaps we might talk?"

She had sat slowly, hesitantly, watching as he lay back amongst the pillows. So small he seemed then, sagging visibly, something in him seeming to deflate as he sighed.

"Why—?"

"—Because they will expect no less." His smirk softened, turning almost bemused as he tilted his head to look up at her. "What is your name?"

"Mira, Master."

"Mira." He nodded. "I am Zevran. Zev, to my friends."

"Yes, Master."

He had laughed at that. "If we are to be trapped in this predicament, there is no harm in getting acquainted, yes? Come, tell me of yourself."

And so she had. It had seemed so strange to speak of herself again, to remember the details beyond her duties, her training, but he had coaxed them out of her, eyes never straying from the ceiling. But her life was a small one, with few enough stories to share. The talk had turned to him then.

It had continued all these nights, she in her accustomed chair at his bedside, he staring upward with those distant eyes. And such a tale he had told. She knew now the truth behind those whispers, knew now of Her. In all of Antiva City, she was the only one who had seen the Master weep.

One of the boys, Rollo, had taking to sitting with him on alternate nights, pushing aside the furniture to train within the Master's very chamber. When she had asked Zevran about it, he had only chuckled, speaking again of appearances with a knowing wink. But never had he touched her, never had he asked more than a willing ear. And it was not long before she realized just how eager she was.

She had been approached, of course, twice now in so many weeks. A bit of poison in his wine and she would be a rich woman, they said, slip this into his food or she would sorely regret it. But never had the promised blows come, never had she felt so much as a shadow dogging her steps. She was the Master's now, his and his alone.

And for the first time in her life, Mira was growing bold. More she pressed him, urging him to send letters, make inquiries. Surely such a hero as his Warden-Commander would have survived the attacks in Amaranthine. But all of the news had been bad, vague but terrible still. Each time it seemed to wound him anew, the bottles that she brought him emptied once again. She looked so like her, he had once said, curling round the pillows in a drunken half-sleep. His hand had found hers, protective in its tenderness as he promised Mira that no harm would ever come to her.

If only she could do the same for him.

The stalls here were familiar, the casks and barrels stacked high as they were unloaded from the southern ships. The merchant, Damlen, smiled to see her.

"_Che cazzo stai dicendo?_"

An elven woman pounded her first of the wood of the next stall, leaning close to argue with the proprietor. "I don't bloody understand you! Where?" She gestured wild. "_Where?_"

"Go straight through the square, a left at the fountain, a right at the—"

The woman sighed exasperated, letting loose a virulent string of curses in near-perfect Antivan. And yet she could not understand a few, simple words.

As she turned, Mira caught a glimpse of the face beneath that hood, felt herself gasp. The accent, the eyes flashing eager despite her scowl, the decided lack of social graces.

Spotting her, the woman blinked. "What?"

Mira grinned.

* * *

"It's not fair! I didn't even place a bid!" Silvio paced the hall, hands clasped behind his back.

Leaning back in the room's only chair, Zevran watched the young Crow over the rim of his glass, smiled as he took a long, slow sip. It was Silvio who had most recently attempted to poison him, Silvio who even now seemed ready to strike him where he sat. The others were not oblivious to the exchange, clustered round the steps of the low dais at the chamber's end. All had likewise made some attempt at testing him, but only Silvio had dared mount the stairs to stand before him, glowering up at him still.

Setting down the glass, Zevran nodded. "No, you did not."

"Then why?"

He raised a hand for silence, hiding the bit of wicked satisfaction as they acquiesced. "You are all men, women of skill, yes? The General has requested out very best. And I think you in particular, Silvio, could benefit from a Seheron summer."

The younger man could not keep the flush from his pale cheeks. No, he would have to do better than that.

Zevran glanced up as the door at the end of the hall swung open, Mira dropping into a shallow bow as the others turned. Good girl. Truly, she should not bow for them at all. But there was a smile there as she raised her eyes, the grin barely contained.

"Leave us."

The others looked to him now, Silvio's eyes narrowing. "Master—"

"—Leave. Now."

They moved as one for the doors on either side of the hall, glances roaming openly between them. Let them wonder. Whatever rumor was spun here were surely be more salacious than the truth. Both Mira and Rollo had played their parts well. Already word had spread of his strange appetites, the cries coming from his chambers, his watchful, sleepless hours. But as to the truth of those…

He rose from the chair, the steps of the dais falling away beneath him. And still Mira smiled. She was a perceptive enough girl, if young, so like She had been when first they met. But could she truly know, truly understand what this proof would bring him? Did he even understand himself? Whatever sign she had found, whatever news… It would be over, she would be… Zevran hesitated. Still he could not think the word. Hope, even now?

"You found something."

Mira straightened, grin splitting wide. "Oh yes."

He had taken half a step, wondering still at that excitement. But he saw it then, moving from the shadows of the doorway, the figure cloaked and hooded. Slight but proud and strong, so strong, that slow, determined grace. He knew before she raised her eyes, lifting slender, trembling hands to lower the hood.

Reikha's breath caught in her throat. So long he had feared to forget that face, soft beneath the weary lines, those eyes wide and innocent despite all that they had seen. So many sleepless nights he had put ink to page but he was no artist, not truly, each fading detail stirring guilt anew. They had burned beside the letters, written even still, wasted words and canvas. Too late, they had said it was too late.

Beautiful she stood in her disbelief, joy and panic and relief warring behind her eyes. They watered now, overwhelmed, his own sight blurring as he grinned. Only dimly was he aware of Mira bowing slowly out of the room.

Reikha laughed then, streaking cross the tiles as she let the cloak fall fluttering behind, closing the distance between them to crash against his chest. Zevran caught her as they staggered, the warmth of her, the feel, the scent, the taste as his kisses fell wild against her chin. He had lifted her, he realized, her hands tangling impatient in his hair as she pulled his mouth up her hers. It was slow that he lowered her, shuddering to feel her, all of her sliding against him.

Zevran's chest heaved, breath hot against her cheek. "We are being watched."

Her chuckle was little more than a throaty sigh, delicious and wicked as he had remembered. "I know."

Reikha spun, drawing her blades as the tiny knife came flying from between the pillars. Silvio did have marvelous aim. But she was faster, striking quick, deflecting it with ease. Already she was dashing cross the hall, the knife clattering against the steps. Silvio hit the wall with a grunt, Reikha's dagger coming to his throat as she pressed him back against the stone.

Zevran moved behind her, wrapping his arms round her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Dear, dear Silvio. This is the second time this week."

The man's eyes roamed between them, something like fear flickering behind his sneer. How they must look to him, she pale where he was dark and dark where he was pale, but fitting together with perfect ease. Tighter he held her, breathing deep of her hair, nuzzling his cheek against hers.

Reikha mirrored his grin, her grip on the blade unwavering. She pressed closer, enjoying herself.

"Here, _amora_. I believe this is yours." Zevran slipped Fang from its place on his back, laying it in her hand.

She chuckled as his fingers closed over hers, tilting her head to look back at him. Her gaze held as she switched the blades, Silvio squirming anew. Still he was pinned, those hands moving before he could react, and now he was being thoroughly ignored.

Something passed behind Reikha's smile. "Is he…?"

Zevran nodded.

Half-twisting, she rolled her hips against his, one of his hands cupping her cheek to turn her face to his. The force of the kiss was staggering. Silvio struggled, attempting to slip round the dagger still at his throat, but Zevran's other arm braced hard against his chest, shoving him back against the wall. Opening one eye he sighed deep, winking for the other man.

Reikha whirled full to face him then, Fang slicing in a neat arc as she pressed her chest to his. The blade fell forgotten as Silvio slumped, her lips again finding his. Away from the wall Zevran drew her, lifting her above the spreading pool, her legs wrapping round his waist. Her hands seemed to be everywhere, her teeth nipping at his neck as he slipped a hand beneath her tunic.

She moved with him, shivering for the trace of his fingers up and cross her spine, laughing as the last of her leathers tangled round her head. He threw them aside, her gasp thick as he buried his face against her breasts.

So pale that skin, so soft despite the scars. Once he had thought to memorize them all, begged her to let him trace them with his inks. But there were new marks here, fresh if fading, a yellow bruise marring the tender rise of her left breast.

"_Amora_…"

Held above him still, she sighed against his hair. "You have no idea how I've missed that."

"Mm."

Reikha's hands roamed as he lowered her, deft fingers already working at his laces, the tunic sliding up and over his head. Again she buried her face in his neck, hands slipping over his back as she chuckled. But they hesitated, her breath seeming to catch as they found the scars, the still-rough lines of Selena's claws. Pulling away, she blinked, stepping round to stand behind him.

She traced the tattoos, something of that smile twitching still, but it was to the scars that her fingers strayed.

Turning, Zevran caught her wrist. He had not intended… but she knew, her face falling as she held his gaze. Before he could open his mouth to speak her eyes flickered away, those lips trembling, cringing… guilty.

"Ahh." Looking again to the fading bruises, the telltale shape of eager teeth, he traced gentle fingers along her cheek.

Reikha shook her head.

"_Amora_." He turned her eyes back to his. But she must have seen something there, some surprise or hurt that he had failed to hide, for still she refused to look at him.

"I… I didn't know if… I thought you were…" She sobbed as he pulled her close, burying her face against his chest. Her arms wrapped round, twitching as they again found Selena's final gift.

He scowled. "I told you that I had to do many things in my time as a Crow."

Reikha pulled back to look at him. "It's okay. I… I understand. You… did what you had to."

"No. So it was once and so I convinced myself it was again. But it was a mistake."

She chewed at her lip. "Who is she?"

"It no longer matters. She is dead." His eyes strayed cross the hall to where Fang lay forgotten on the floor.

Reikha followed his gaze, finally looking up at him. "I'm sorry, Zev."

Shaking his head, he cupped a gentle hand beneath her breast. "But you, _amora_. Were you… hurt?"

He would not say it, but she had to smile for the softness of that whisper. "It was nothing I did not ask for."

Zevran blinked at that. They had experimented, true; there was little that they had not done in their time together, but…

She was watching him. "I… wanted it to hurt. _I_ wanted to hurt, I think. Just to feel, feel something beside the numbness, the emptiness, the wondering—"

"—Ahh." He pulled her closer, pressing his lips against her forehead. It was a long moment before he spoke, the question looming unasked. "And yours…?"

"Not dead. But I'm pretty sure he despises me."

Zevran chuckled, shaking his head. "Perhaps it is better that I do not know."

"Zev. I… I'm sorry, truly."

"As am I." He smirked, tsking beneath his breath. "But if we are keeping score of depraved acts, I must admit that I am still some years ahead of you. Lifetimes, perhaps."

Reikha's hand fell against his cheek as her scowl softened. "I told you that doesn't matter."

"Does it not?" He ran fingers through her hair, smiling as they found the earring nestled there. "Mm. You are right, I think. But it cuts both ways, yes? Amaranthine does not matter; the Crows do not matter. This…" He bent to bring the gem gently to his lips, straightening to lay kisses on her cheek and forehead, pausing just above her lips. "I once said that by your side I would storm the gates of the Dark City itself. And in this I have failed you. But know that I will never leave your side again." He grinned. "If you think that you could bear my company."

For answer she threw her arms around his neck, laughing as he lifted her, bearing her toward the dais. How he had hated this room, the final trap springing shut, Visarius' lies hanging still heavy on the air. But as he lay her back against the steps, rocking back on his heels to admire the effect of her dark hair cascading cross the pale marble, Zevran smiled.

Leaning over her, he traced her lips only fleetingly, moving to chin and neck and shoulders.  
Softer still those kisses as he moved to her breasts, tongue flitting over the bruises to circle suckling round the nipple. Reikha stirred, but he was teasingly gentle. Marks or no, he could not imagine her laying still for anyone – and certainly not quietly, as he recalled. She would have given as good as she got.

Zevran found himself laughing, hands bracing against the steps as he slid lower. He had not expected such a thought to be so… tantalizing, but his back arched now as he traced the lines of her belly, his hips rolling against her knee where it fell between his legs.

Again Reikha's hands found his back, digging hard against the scars, nails biting to open them anew. Both hands she dragged, her marks longer, deeper, possessing him entire. Zevran hissed, grabbing at her belt, his chuckle tracing the slipping line of her breeches. Away he pulled them, Reikha shifting to help, to kick them off. Her head snapped back as he threw them aside, burying his face against her.

She seemed to be sliding up the steps now, crawling back and away from him, gaining balance to wrap her legs round his shoulders. Laughing still, Zevran breathed deep, one hand snaking high to cup round her breast, the other pushing him upward, using the full length of his body to rock with the swaying of her hips.

After a time, the hand moved low, feeling beneath the rhythm of his tongue, looking up to see her chest heave with delicious anticipation. One finger and then the next, the flick of his tongue quickening as she whimpered.

"Zev."

"Mmm…" He let the sound stretch long, lips pressing harder against her.

"Zev. Please."

The merest play of teeth, her breaths quickening as he laughed.

Again her hands curled against his back, pulling him upward. It was regretfully that he allowed himself to be drawn away, leaving lingering, sucking kisses, his fingers withdrawing slow as her eyes pinched shut. But her hands worked quickly, sliding free his belt, jerking hard upon his laces.

"Tsk, _amora_. Such impatience." He let his hips roll against her, those final leathers between them still. Such warmth, and sure to leave a stain.

With no small difficulty he pulled away, rising up just enough to kick the breeches off and away. Reikha wasted no time in drawing him to her, fingers dimpling hard against the tender flesh of his backside.

His hands fell against the steps to either side of her, catching himself, bracing just enough to tease. Reikha's head lolled, the moan deliciously exasperated. True, he quivered as well, the heat of her close enough to touch, but how he had missed that sound, that bemused pout.

"Andraste's ass, Zev!"

Ahh, the things that he had made her say…

Reikha's touch slipped round now, gripping him, a single thumb trailing light over the most tender bits. His elbows buckled, her laugh triumphant as he fell against her, drawing him into her at last. Zevran gasped for that possessing heat, the snake of her tongue between his lips… gone perhaps, but never forgotten. Not this.

She smiled now, hips rising again and again to meet him, hands tangling in his hair to bring his mouth to hers. But he buried himself against her neck, back heaving with something like laughter. Here, at last, it was over.

* * *

"From the moment of her arrival, word spread that any who crossed the master would also face the Hero of Ferelden, the one-time Commander of the Grey. Less than half a year they remained in Antiva City, the Crows flourishing beneath their merciless but changing rule. Many disappeared during that time and the city whispered, but always it was those who were said to be cruel, those who would not be missed. Darkspawn raids increased but always they were turned aside, the master's bride herself commanding from the walls.

"It was a spring evening that they vanished, slipping away in the night without word or reason. But there had been a strange air about the master in those final days, a smile that would not fade. Some say that they returned to Denerim, to her family. Others claim that they remain in hiding within the city or that they wander still. But as to why they left, none could say."

She shifted Adaia against her hip, laying a thoughtful kiss upon her forehead. Little more than three years old and already the girl had her father's wicked grin. "Tell another, Nan."

Mira smiled. "I'm afraid we don't have time, little one. Perhaps when next you visit, hm?"

"But I wanna hear about the Blight. About Oggin and King Alistair!"

She laughed. "That is a story for your mother to tell, I think."

Reikha made her way up the dock now, whatever argument she had been having with the ship's captain well and truly settled. She took the girl from Mira's arms with a grateful smile as Zevran slipped behind her. "You'll see them soon enough."

Adaia grinned up at her, but Zevran shook his head. "Oghren, a Grey Warden. This I _must_ see." As Mira turned to the rest of their packs he smirked, arms wrapping round Reikha and the child as he bent to whisper in her ear. "Tell me you and he did not..."

She laughed, eyes narrowing wickedly. "I thought you didn't want to know."

"Morbid curiosity, then."

"No. Not Oghren." She chuckled. "But I will say that he is _not_ a dwarf that you want to cross."

"Oh?"

"He was… less than pleased with me. Defended your honor, actually."

"My…?" He buried the laugh against her hair. "Now _that_ I would like to have seen."

Mira returned then. They had not packed much, but she had insisted on helping, on seeing them off. Zevran smiled for them both. "I still do not see how you convinced me of this. Ferelden? Again?" He shuddered.

"Will you be visiting your arling, Commander?"

Reikha shook her head. "It's not mine to visit."

"Oh, I don't know." Zevran took Adaia from her arms. "Perhaps a bit of idle threatening? Keep those wicked humans on their toes, as it were?"

"They're not all so bad."

"Ahh." He quirked a brow, the old joke unspoken. As he turned for the ship, he tsked. "Such a scandalous change of heart." They had spoken of it eventually, of course, the gentle mockery seemingly the only price they each would pay.

Reikha laughed, turning to give Mira a final hug before darting after them. Linking her arm through his, she brushed Adaia's hair from her face. "Alistair has a son now, you know."

"Hm?" Zevran pulled her closer, shifting as the girl squirmed eager for the waiting ship. "And we have left them in peace long enough, yes?"

She smirked. "My thoughts exactly."

As they made their way up the ramp, he lay a chuckling kiss on Adaia's forehead. "Somehow, I pity them both."


	5. Chapter 5

An optional epilogue. Basically just an excuse for gratuitous smut ;)

* * *

"You know you're insane, right?"

Sitting back in her chair, Reikha grinned, taking a long, slow sip of wine. Zevran chuckled beside her, shifting to lay a hand on her arm.

Looking between them, Alistair shook his head. "Not that it's not good to see you again." His sigh was weary as he set his glass on the table between them. "But you just… you just _left_."

"I had done all I could in Amaranthine."

"Maybe. But the Wardens… and the Orleasians… and we had just gotten _rid of_ one Arl Howe. Why in Andraste's name would you…?"

Reikha stiffened, hoped Zevran didn't notice. "Is he doing a bad job?"

"No." Alistair sighed. "Not at all, actually."

"Then what's the problem?"

"No word for three years? I mean, if I thought I could get away with disappearing…"

"Surely it hasn't all been so bad." Reikha quirked a brow, nodding to where Duncan sat playing on the floor with Adaia. A year her senior and twice her size, the boy seemed nonetheless confounded by the tiny elf who seemed to have made a game of snatching his toys and hiding them beneath their parents' legs. Awkward as his father but his features were pale and pointed, the scowl certainly his mother's.

"Anora is an… interesting woman."

Zevran winked. "Congratulations, my friend. Truly. I had almost feared you would not recover from your encounter with—"

"—The archdemon." Even after all these years he flushed at the memory, looking to the watching children. "With the archdemon."

Reikha rolled her eyes.

Alistair fixed her with a bemused smirk. "Which brings us back to the subject of duty…"

"Being king is nothing, trust me. Especially here."

"Oh really?"

She looked to Zevran. "How many was it? The poisonings? Arrows? Knives in the dark?"

"Hm?" He smirked. "I will say that the assassination attempts decreased markedly after your arrival, my dear. A few a week, perhaps, but no more."

"I was rather disappointed."

"And even less before we left."

She grinned. "It seems they did not love us anymore."

Alistair snorted. "I was wrong. You're both mad. Completely mad." He laughed as they turned back to him. "But you look happy. Great, really."

She shifted at that, crossing her legs. The dress was new, winter thick and deep green, the bodice tight and plunging. She had acquired a number of them during their time in Antiva, all at Zevran's insistence. It had seemed appropriate for a meeting with the king but the sight of the boyish, former templar was enough to have her itching for her leathers. At least the skirts were slit high, allowing her to move almost freely, her daggers resting now hidden against her thighs. _That_ she had insisted upon.

Zevran wore a long and high-necked coat of white, the embroidery curling thick cross the chest and sleeves dyed to match her own. She knew that there would be layers and layers beneath it, wool and linen and silk. While it felt almost good to be back in the crisp air of a proper winter, he had already spent a good deal of the journey complaining. And when she reminded him that he had once weathered colder in no more than a set of worn leathers, he would only remark she had been rather fond of warming him even then.

He was watching her now, she realized. Reikha wondered if he could read something of her thoughts behind that knowing smirk. Usually he could.

Alistair had turned his attention back to the children, watching as Duncan offered Adaia a tiny, wooden sword. After a long moment she snatched it up, smacking him promptly upside the head.

"Adaia!" Reikha grabbed for her as she darted past, turning her to face the whimpering boy. "See? You gave him a boo-boo."

Leaning low, Zevran patted her hair. "And what do we do with 'boo-boo's, _tesorina_?"

Adaia grinned up at them. Darting forward, she gave Duncan a hasty kiss on the cheek before disappearing behind her mother's skirts in a fit of giggles.

The boy turned a familiar, mottled shade of red, running to bury his face against Alistair's leg.

"Maker's breath…" He looked between Reikha and Zevran with a bemused smirk. "I'm suddenly very, very afraid to see what happens in another dozen years or so."

"Not I." Zevran draped an arm round Reikha's shoulder with a dangerous wink. "Just be sure your boy does not upset her again, yes?"

"Upset _her_?"

"You heard me, my friend."

Laughing, Alistair shook his head, reaching to refill their glasses. "Like I said: very, _very_ afraid."

The knock was brief, perfunctory, the door swinging wide to crash against the wall. "So it's true, is it? No-good, swishy, nug-humping—!"

Zevran was on his feet in a flash, scooping the dwarf into a crushing hug.

"'Ey! 'Ey! Where're your pants?"

"Right here, my friend. Though if you prefer…"

Oghren squirmed free, snorting through his whiskers. "Bloody Antivans."

"Hey now." Reikha stood, grinning as the dwarf shoved Zevran aside.

"Commander."

"_Former_ Commander." She smiled. "It's good to see you again."

"Yeh? Couldn't get enough of ol' Oghren, huh? They always come back for more."

Clapping him on the shoulder, Zevran shook his head. "Ahh, and to think I almost missed that stench."

But Adaia had pushed her way between them, eyes going wide as she blinked up at the dwarf. For his part, Oghren almost mirrored her expression. "What's this, then?" He smirked. "Of all the—"

Adaia squared her shoulders, marching forward to give his beard an enthusiastic tug.

He spluttered, the cough fading into a laugh as he scooped her up.

"Oggin!"

"Heh. Told her about me, didja?"

"Perhaps a bit."

Still her fingers tangled there, exploring now those thick and bushy eyebrows, the deep crags of his cheeks.

Reikha raised a hand. "Erm, Oghren? You have bathed recently, haven't you?"

"Aye. Don't worry. _He_ makes me do it at least once a week now." He laughed. "Sure you won't come back Commander? Things ain't been the same since you left."

"Except for your incessant complaining." Anders stood now in the doorway, rolling his eyes as he grinned.

"Anders." Striding forward, Reikha let him pull her into a quick hug.

"Nice to see you again."

Zevran moved to her side, blinking up at the mage, looking between them as he arched a brow. Reikha smirked, shaking her head before moving back to Oghren and taking Adaia from his arms.

Following her, Anders chuckled, bending to waggle fingers in the girl's face. "Cute kid."

"Bloody—! She's not a pet!"

Oghren snorted. "And I wouldn't put it past that one to bite, boy."

But Anders had turned his attention to Alistair now, grinning as he bowed. "Have anything to eat around here? Wait. I'm sorry. Spare some bread, Your Highness? A pittance for some poor travelers?"

Reikha got the impression that she was watching a long-practiced game.

"You know where the kitchens are. Though you might try using the stove this time. Easier than burning down half the castle."

The mage bowed his way out of the room with a wicked smirk.

"Seems like you two are getting along well."

Alistair sighed exasperated.

"Doesn't sound a bad idea, actually." Oghren nodded up at her. "We've only just arrived and Amaranthine's still one soddin' long walk."

Zevran grinned. "Still soldiering on, I see."

"It's just you and Anders, then?"

The dwarf opened his mouth to speak, but Reikha's eyes had already snapped to the doorway, to the figure leaning there.

"No, unfortunate as that may be." Nathaniel folded his arms. He was dressed for traveling, the cloak long and billowing and black, the high collar rimmed with a deep grey fur. His hair hung loose, the contrast even more stark that she had remembered, pale and pointed features softening beneath his scowl. It shifted into something almost like a bemused smile, but those eyes were piercing still.

She set Adaia down, noting the flicker of his eyes, the wondering hesitation. Reikha looked away.

"Ah." Zevran nodded, watching her. But he too was grinning, smirk turning wicked as she gulped. "The other was much too cheerful, yes?"

"Shut up."

"Perhaps there is something to be said for one so tall and dark and…" He trailed off as Nathaniel strode into the room, as he found himself pinned beneath that weighing stare. After a long moment, Zevran grinned. "I do so love these awkward silences."

With a snort, Nathaniel turned to Alistair, dropping into a perfunctory bow. "Highness."

"Commander."

"Commander, is it?" Zevran's eyes went wide, the laugh choking in his throat as he smirked down at her. "Then this would be… _Arl Howe_?"

Reikha elbowed him in the ribs.

Turning from Alistair, Nathaniel glowered down at them both. "Please. That's not necessary."

She felt herself flush.

"Your Highness!" A guardsman stood panting in the doorway, but it took Alistair a moment to turn that curious gaze from Reikha. "The, erm, the Grey Warden. He encountered Knight-Commander Cullen and the delegation from the Tower in the south hall. There… there seems to be a situation."

Alistair groaned. "How bad?"

"I believe he – ahem – said that he would show them the taste of his taint, Sire. One man has already lost his eyebrows."

Oghren choked, doubling over as he chortled.

Alistair was already making for the door. "Have I told you how much I _love_ your recruiting ideas? No? Good." Glancing over his shoulder, he shook his head. "I have a few other things to attend to as well, but make yourselves comfortable."

Turning to follow, Oghren gaze shifted between the three of them. "Adaia. Duncan. How'd you like to see how Grey Wardens deal with the big, mean Templars, huh?"

Reikha hesitated, but already he had taken each of the little ones by the hand, Adaia bouncing eager at his side.

As they disappeared, Zevran flopped into one of the waiting chairs, propping his feet up on the table. The moment lingered silent, his grin only growing broader. Reikha found herself staring to the cups, her feet, her dress…

"You look… nice." Nathaniel's lips twitched as she raised her eyes.

Turning away, Reikha grabbed the nearest glass and downed it in one pull.

He chuckled. "As I recall, that doesn't help matters any."

"Ahh, but she does have a way about her when it goes to her head, does she not?"

It was Nathaniel who sat first, shaking his head with a wondering expression. Reikha grabbed the bottle.

"So?" Zevran let his feet fall as he leaned forward. "How did you two meet?"

"I tried to kill her."

Throwing back his head, Zevran laughed. "If ever there was a way to win a woman's heart…"

Reikha sank into the chair beside him with a sigh. "And suddenly I'm regretting both of those decisions."

Nathaniel quirked a brow.

"Oh ho! She did not tell you? I myself had taken a contract on her life, but she evaded my trap with ease. It was not long before I found myself bound and bloodied and at the mercy of a deadly sex goddess."

"If only I had thought to gag you."

Smirking, Zevran wrapped an arm round her shoulders to pull her close. "Perhaps Alistair has some extra rope about?" His fingers trailed along her neckline.

"I'll go look for some then, shall I?" Nathaniel rose quick to his feet.

"Ahh, my dear Arl. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable." Smiling still, Zevran leaned forward to fill two more cups. "Please, sit."

After a long moment he acquiesced, pulling the glass near without drinking. Turning it between his hands, he raised his eyes. "I want to apologize."

"What?"

He smiled for her, thin-lipped and crooked. "For being angry. When you did what you did. It has been… difficult, but not entirely bad."

"Alistair said you were doing well."

"I somehow find that difficult to believe."

She chuckled. "Well, he implied as much. And… I should apologize as well."

"Don't."

"But I…"

Shaking his head, he glanced again to Zevran, smiling as his eyes turned back to hers. "Really, it's not necessary."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

They both looked at her.

"I've done bad things, horrible things and it's all, 'Oh, that's okay. We forgive you. Hero of Ferelden, lalala.'"

Zevran quirked a brow. "You are sure you have not been spending too much time with Alistair? Such self-pity does not suit you."

"But I—"

"—Or is it punishment you seek?" Zevran's grin turned wicked.

"I have wondered that, myself." Nathaniel chuckled, taking a long sip of wine.

Reikha settled back in her chair with a huff. "You understand how this is more than a little disturbing."

Propping his elbow on the arm of her chair, Zevran leaned close. Again, his fingers played along her bodice, slipping lower now to trace the slit in her skirts. "Perhaps there is something we can do to make you more comfortable." She could feel the fabric sliding higher, see Nathaniel watching them over the rim of his glass.

"Zev…"

Sweeping her hair back behind her ear, he lay a nuzzling kiss against her neck.

She heard the chair slide back, the steps moving toward the door.

"Nathaniel…"

The bolt slid home.

Again she heard him take his seat, refilling all three glasses without a word. Zevran's hands were moving higher now, the skirts pushed up to her waist. It was only then that she remembered she was not wearing anything underneath. His teeth were at her neck, taking the fabric gently between his lips to slide it down and off her shoulder.

Reikha's eyes had fallen closed, the sudden touch of a second set of hands leaving her gasping. Looking down, she saw Nathaniel kneeling before her, cupping her ankle as he unlaced her boot and set it aside, moving gently over her calf and behind her knee. His fingers played light over the now-exposed sheath, the first of her daggers sliding free with a whispering hiss.

Zevran was standing now, leaning over her to bring her lips to his. The second dagger was unsheathed, disarming her completely. But still Nathaniel's fingers worked the clasps, sliding the belts that had held them lingeringly cross her thighs. Zevran's hand caught his wrist as the sheath fell to the floor, his skin seeming suddenly so dark against the other man's. It was a moment before Nathaniel relaxed, realizing that he was being guided higher, Zevran pressing him on with chuckling insistence.

Zevran's own hands moved away, coming to rest instead against her cheeks, turning her face to his.

"This doesn't… bother you?"

"Should it?" He tsked. "For a time I was the only man fortunate enough to have known you and, while not particularly a burden, there was a certain sense of – shall we say – discrepancy." His eyes roamed to Nathaniel, now trailing kisses across her knees. "And I must admit that I have been curious. What you have done, what was done to you. Such delicious possibilities."

Nathaniel's laugh was warm against her thigh. "And you would know, wouldn't you? But if it is a show you are after…" His eyes met hers from beneath thick and lowered brows. Moving quick, he slipped his arms behind her back, lifting her with him as he came to his feet. One hand worked the clasp of his cloak, letting it fall, her hands already roaming over the thick embroidery of his leathers. Dark and fine but hard, so like the rest of him. Reikha found herself smiling.

He looked down at her a long moment, holding her gaze as one hand tangled roughly in her hair, pulling her head back. His eyes flickered to Zevran, smirking for the permissive nod as he buried his teeth against her neck.

She felt Zevran slip behind her, hands tangling in her skirts to push them up around her waist. They slid up and over the curves of her, lingering grasping over the tenderest bits as he pressed against her. Already she could feel Nathaniel stirring, his leathers rubbing rough between them. When he pulled away to help Zevran tug the dress over her head, she gasped for that missing ache.

But they both seemed to be teasing her now, stepping back to look at her.

"This just isn't fair."

Zevran doffed his coat with a grin, pulling off the tunic beneath, the shirt beneath that, the padded wool undercoat…

Nathaniel quirked a brow.

"He has a thing about cold."

"These Ferelden winters! Insufferable!" Wriggling out of the last one, he sighed. "Ahh, there we are."

"What are—?"

"—Oh ho! You are admiring my tattoos, yes? And you have not yet seen them all. But come, the lady would have her way with us." He moved to Nathaniel's side, reaching for the laces at his chest.

He backed away with a scowl, but Zevran only laughed. "As you wish. But I am willing to offer my assistance if you are… amenable."

"That won't be necessary." Shooting Reikha a dubious glance, he slipped the leathers up and over his head.

"Mmm." Zevran moved behind him, stopping short of running hands over his shoulders. "But you were about to show me something were you not, my friend?"

With a smirk, Nathaniel moved again to Reikha, one hand going to the small of her back to pull her against him. Again he paused, looking down at her, the weight of that gaze setting her to shuddering. The other hand brushed aside her hair, chuckling as he found the earring.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Tilting her head, Reikha smiled. "I still would like to apologize." Before he could protest, she pressed a finger to his lips, sinking slow to her knees. She slid backward as she tugged at his belt, guiding him to one of the waiting chairs. As he fell back she pulled his breeches low, saw his eyes go wide as she ran her tongue along the line of his hip.

But he needed no urging, the gasp thick and grunting as she wrapped her lips round the length of him. Never had they done this, never had she thought to… Zevran knelt behind her now, running scratching fingers up her spine. His laugh hissed against her ear, his leathers pressing hot and tight and eager against her back. Slipping one hand behind her, she grabbed him, fingers curling round the tenderest bits as he moaned.

"Off." The word was choked, thick.

He stood as he complied, kicking off the offending breeches. But rather than return to her, he moved behind Nathaniel, deft fingers kneading the other man's shoulders. Leaning low, he looked down at her, laughing against his cheek. "You can thank me later, my friend."

"Oh?" The word was breathless, hissed.

"I taught her all that she knows."

"And how's that?"

Reikha looked up to find Nathaniel smirking, holding Zevran's gaze from the corner of his eye. The challenge was clear. She gasped as his hips rose, nearly choking as her eyes snapped shut. When next she raised them, her breath caught. The kiss was awkward, rough, Nathaniel's hands tangled in Zevran's hair to pull him low. As she watched it seemed to smooth, becoming deeper if no less rough, fighting and possessive.

She had sat back, she realized, jaw hanging as she started. Looking to her, they both laughed.

"Are you unwell, _amora_?"

"No… I… that was…"

Zevran grinned, stepping toward her, but Nathaniel caught his arm. "You were going to show me something, were you not?"

He laughed for the echo of his earlier question, kneeling before Reikha as he lay a hand against her cheek. "That, I am afraid, is not my decision to make."

She blinked. "You're asking…? Oh, Maker…"

"Ahh. See? Bad luck, my friend."

"No, I…" Reikha grinned. "I mean…" She flushed, shaking her head.

The kiss was long and slow and deep, his arms wrapping round to crush her against him. But he moved away, leaving her gasping. Nathaniel echoed her, Zevran's tongue snaking low and lingering along the length of him. He stretched there, teasing, Nathaniel's knuckles going white against the chair's arm as Zevran's mouth at last closed round.

Reikha sat back, unable to take her eyes from them. Her fingers strayed, moving with their rhythm, surprised at her own eagerness. It was Nathaniel who noticed her first, tilting his head as he watched her, waiting a moment before raising Zevran's head.

"I think she is enjoying herself."

She smirked, somehow flushing still. "But if I thought I was going to be spending tonight alone…"

"Alas, we are being rude."

Nathaniel offered Zevran an arm as they rose, the sight of them somehow sending Reikha scooting back across the floor. But Zevran knelt quick before her, pulling her to him, the taste still thick upon his lips. Behind her, she could feel the edges of Nathaniel's discarded cloak, thick and soft and warm. He spread it full as he slipped behind her, his kisses hot across her shoulders, crushing her between them.

Moving aside, he lowered her back, settling her against that dark and velvety fur. They both seemed to pause, admiring the effect.

"Ahh… lovely, is she not?"

"That she is."

Reikha pursed her lips into a mock pout. "Is someone going to soddin' help me here, or what?"

"I did so miss that mouth."

Zevran chuckled.

It was Nathaniel who leaned over her, bracing palms to either side. So large he loomed, that gaze seemed to press her back against the floor. She had almost forgotten that. Reikha found her hips rolling against him, pleading now.

One hand slipped roughly between her legs, parting them, a second touch gentle and guiding. As he fell against her, something in her shuddered, every caress shifting, changing, blurring. There were hands now behind her thigh, lifting her leg stretching it up and against his chest as he plunged deeper. Her shoulders pressed back against the cloak with the force of it, her hips seeming to lift grasping. She could see Zevran kneeling above her head now, feel Nathaniel's arms wrap round her waist as he lifted her and spun her round. Her palms hit the floor, fingers curling against the fur as he took her now from behind.

It was with some difficulty that she pushed herself up, groping almost blindly for Zevran, hearing that familiar chuckle as her hand fell against his chest. Closer he slid, her hand closing round his backside to draw him to her. She was dimly aware of her lack of grace as she took him into her mouth, the sloppy eagerness of it. But his hands tangled uncaring in her hair, his breaths ragged as he rocked with them.

Still she struggled for balance, Nathaniel's weight against her back driving harder now, his shoulders shuddering as his grip tightened on her hip. Had it always been like this, this wild, this uncontrolled? No, no she had never allowed it. Pressing back against him, Reikha cried out, felt his hand clamp hard round her breast. His scream came through clenched teeth, the final thrusts slowing, deepening as he trembled.

She had forgotten Zevran, let him fall away. Guilt then, the old wounds opened anew, but it was he who lifted her now, drawing her up to face him, those kisses so soft, so tender. Her fingers splayed against his chest, pressing him back as she fell atop him. Quick she shifted her legs, lowering herself, seeing his head snap back.

This, this was something else, their bodies fitting perfectly as she leaned low, trailing kisses cross his forehead. Opening his eyes, he laughed. "And still you are not sated?"

"Not yet." She rocked back, driving her hips hard against his, rising and falling only to rise again. Dimly she was aware that Nathaniel had settled back to watch them, but still Zevran held her gaze, moving with her, his hands seeming to be everywhere at once.

He shifted quick, spinning to pin her beneath him, holding her eyes a long moment. Still she felt him everywhere, pressed against her, long and lean and hers.

Reikha smiled up at him, the words escaping breathless as her lips found his. "I am yours."

Still they were intertwined when the knock came, Nathaniel's eyes having long ago fluttered closed in contented sleep.

She could imagine the flush on Alistair's cheeks as she buried a laugh against Zevran's shoulder.

"Um… hello? What's going on in there?"


End file.
